Enemy forces police the streets
A detachment of one and two star Wolverhampton chefs
return from the Charge of the HAARP Array.
Jellet carries out the military indoctrination
I have been imbedded with the Karl Perkins battalion for some while now. I rendezvoused with the relaxed operatives of a battery of DOR irradiators at a secret location of one of the disused bromide factories near the East Mims services. Even though the levels of silver nitrate were still off the scale, and consequently some of our insurgents were reporting feelings of extreme fatigue, moral is high as we know there will be no more chem trails coming from this place. I got to know the unit I was to penetrate the enemy stronghold with over a light meal of creamed Turbot and fresh asparagus. It was a good introduction to the nitty-gritty of asymmetric warfare. Although my full enjoyment of the desert was hampered by the incessant shortages, a plastic utensil will never crack the crust of a creme-brulee to produce the satisfaction deep in the heart of the diner that a traditional metal spoon naturally creates. The troops I was with are hardened to the privations of war, and I could not help but note that although there was some minor grumbling, they are laconic heroes hardened to deprivation. It makes you proud just to be able to mix with elite troops of this calibre. I mused there could not be a clearer depiction of the pathology of our enemies than this betrayal of human needs, what sort of minds do our enemies have that they wantonly cause this suffering by deliberately manufacturing this accursed metal spoon shortage? Thinking about such weighty matters disturbed my sleep which was why I was late joining the patrol I was imbedded with in their pre dawn foray into the darkest heart of enemy held territory. These hard salt of the earth freedom fighters have a rugged soldierly sense of humour and I was the butt of many of there jokes implying my late start was due to the consumption of alcohol and soft living, but I could forgive them for this, how could any normal person measure up to the privations these troops regularly encounter.
This is not a time to dwell on the past; preparedness is the password to our futures. The tradgy and loss of life in the past should be seen as no more than the preparation for our glorious victories to come. And remember this; we have struck fear into their hearts comrades. Dry your eyes orphans the dead have marked a line which evil cannot pass around. In the first moments of understanding of sad news words can be said which are not meant, weaker voices mutter about leadership and things they know little about. This has all been expected and accounted for. Some have said we should never sent our regiments of cavalry against the electro magnetic forces of the Harp Array. But it was inspirational reader, I was a witness to the charge; it was not in vain those chevaliers gave their lives for us. Great warriors have shown the way, they have given us the image to live up to, Should this war last for a thousand generations it will always be their sacrifice that will inspire us. It is one of those incomprehensible patterns in life that to win a war the victorious side must suffer a profound defeat. How would the British have withstood the might of Fascist Europe without their ‘Dunkirk spirit’? Just shout Alamo in Texas it was that sacrifice which gave the Texicans time to win their freedom from the oppression of centralist government and take up their place as a central state in the Franco-Spanish New World Axis.
So reader you might have seen the images of bedraggled fragments of troupers and horses staggering back from the HAARP Array, and lesser men would think they are pictures of failure, but we know this is from whence victory comes and we are now prepared.
Our cities might still be controlled by the men in black and yellow, colours which they deliberately chose to be an insult to our dear old queen mum, but take heart Absurdians this is not the end, it is not even the end of the end or the end of the beginning neither is it the middle, or the beginning of the middle or the middle of the end it is that really awkward bit that seems to be not one thing or another. The war might seem pants, but we will not let it lie, once more unto the breaches dear friend, we shall resist them on the breaches, we shall sit down protest on the trousers, we shall surrender in our shorts. These enemies of Absurdia have never faced a force like ours before. Cornel Hazel Morton has a cunning plan. We will fight them with the ultimate weapon ever conceived in asymmetric warfare.
Despatches from the front.
Our forces maintain a stranglehold over several bromide factories, and from these secret locations we are still able to project resistance and the implementation of a network of DOR irradiators has meant over swathes of territory matriculacatars have become inoperative. The moral of our front line troops remain high. I attended several briefings on the pants situation in the company of a member of the fabled homburg brigade of translucent autogiro pilots. The propaganda was of the first order and ended with a Jack Hulbert medley.
With the latest weapons the foces of Absurdia now control this Bromide factory.
Sergeant Glen Vinning with 500 rounds of lip wax.
Three thousand years ago the Chinese were the most advanced people on earth then they installed a strong civil service, centralised government, and a system of education based on examination, and hardly invented another thing. Even knowing this I did not expect what we came to next. In the middle of enemy land, there is an enclave we occupy at the back of Flo Rida’s book shop. Of course it’s under constant baching chorus from Grinling cannons, but this camp is ours. The stress of making the enemy projectiles safe does not show on the faces of the de fusiliers, yet every day they unscrew more than fifteen 'busts'. With every building pot marked with the work of those Apes fireing the Grinling cannon, people took refuge in a veritable tent city. There is a part of Finsbury Square which is forever Absurdia. Although it is stirring to spend time with the heroes that occupy ground in enemy cities, I will not pretend I was not glad to see the flight of translucent autogiros that brought us back, and it was even better to be welcomed to home base. But remember we only have a home because of what our forces are doing at the front line.
Can you imagine whole buildings splattered with the effects of the grinling gibbons.
Clay Thomas of De fusiliers puts right the grinling damage removing the 'busts' that litter the city.
The sight of being greeted home was wonderful, but the the news soon came of the fall of the encampment. Imagine those last few heroes gathered around the chapel founded by the sons of Saxnot resisting to the last. Stand up brethren, The smaller our forces become the more asymmetric we make this war. They do not know this is our plan and every step brings us nearer to victory.
The sun arose as we passed the very edges of our defences and in the distance we could see the streams of refugees fleeing the tyrannical control of the enemy. The time of jokes had passed; a quiet austere determination took over, as we crept through the increasingly dangerous no-mans-land desert around the forbidding fortress city. Even in the distance the towers and ramparts of the citadel are of a forbidding aspect. As I walked towards it I could not truly believe I was with insurgents who regularly penetrated that inner core of evil.
I will make no comment on penetrating the cities defences lest I should inadvertently give our opponents some information they could use against us.
No sane person could imagine the squalor and derogation that is encountered inside the perimeter of tyrannical control. The troops had told me a little of what I would encounter on the other side of the perimeter, but I could not envisage it as being so. My task is to report what I see, however what lays on that other side is so mercurial, so malignant, I can see the charge of propagandist being laid at my feet, I myself would not have believed it if I had not been there myself.
The troops of Karl Perkins battalion maintained a constant composure. Even when we were most exposed without any hope of assistance in enemy territory I could see the integrity in the faces of my patrol. And I think you too will notice it in my photographic evidence. Sergeant Glen Vinning leads the patrol, a man at one with his lipstick gun. It can blow a ‘kiss’ or inflatable rubber projectile over a furlong with some accuracy and at the rate of more than two hundred beats a minuet. All the troops knew their weapons intimately, and would wave them with some abandon in any dance macabre.